


The Mad God's Grasp

by Hypnoticsymbiosis



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Brainwashing, Cigars, Corruption, Cults, Descent into Madness, Gay, Hypnotism, M/M, Madness, Masturbation, Mind Control, Slime, Smoking, Tentacle Dick, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26676892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypnoticsymbiosis/pseuds/Hypnoticsymbiosis
Summary: Jonah ventures out to a mysterious lighthouse off the coast of his town, unaware of the monster below.
Kudos: 55





	The Mad God's Grasp

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think! Art can be found on my Furaffinity: Hypnoticsymbiote, or by following this link! https://www.furaffinity.net/view/38338562/

The Mad God’s Grasp

Waves crashed onto the shore of the shore, saltwater spraying to the air, soaking into the stone. It had been shaped from the sea, born of the raging storms and thundering clouds that had long worn the coastal towns, soaking them to the core. It crashed and smacked upon the posts and rocks, near deafening to the ears.

Innsmouth was a large town, born in the dawn of an age of steel and smoke, it rose from the coast, feasting upon the populace of sea life that lived below, supplying a near endless supply to the world's inland. The buildings of tall stone and brick dotted the piers, large smoke stacks sending clouds to fill the sky, dirtying the once beautiful view. A dull haze covered the town, adding a layer of mystery, fear, and despair onto the town.

The people within the town were strong willed though, the weather and dangerous storms had hardened them for many a decade. They spit in the eye of a storm, high winds were nothing but a gentle breeze, and rain was nothing more than an extra bath, much needed for some. Innsmouth was not without its share of poor, often stealing from the many canneries and fisheries around the town, finding homes within the few dry crevices that remained.

What the people of Innsmouth had been unaware of, was their impact upon the Earth, upon the soil that once beared the feet of the old gods, the creators and the destroyers, the birthers of life. For their crimes, their corruption and destruction of the land, of the resources, of life? They’d face a fate much worse than death, a fate that many had only dreamt of, lost in the realms of nightmares, a fear beyond the world they sat upon. A fate beyond the grasp of the mind.

Beneath the the waves, one dark night, the sea cracked and cawed, the crevices beneath the ocean floor slipping apart, as the podium rose, hidden beneath the waves, rising higher and higher, until it had stood above the sea, a monolith of mystery, calling out for a curious mind to wander within, to find the mysteries within its depths. It’s light twisted and turned, shining over the town of Innsmouth, lighting it within an eerie green glow.

Many were curious of the lighthouse, seemingly popping up overnight, but all who had ventured within had disappeared, their boats washing ashore, capsized and crushed by unknown means. For once, the town of Innsmouth had something to fear. Something that had burst free of the sea had caused them harm, worn down the already hardened lives of the people of Innsmouth, and the true despair set in.

Soon it became a challenge for even the best fishermen to leave the coast, lured in by the shine of the lighthouse. The businesses suffered, the town suffered, and soon, the once grand leaders of the fish market were being crushed beneath the heel of their competitors. Soon, the homeless population grew, and the town was on the verge of collapse.

Among the homeless, the young man gathered his supplies into his satchel, walking down to the docks of the pier, finding the rickety abandoned boats, soaked and bloated from the saltwater. Opening his journal, Jonah scanned over the pages, writing his notes on the mysterious lighthouse. If he could make it, if he could find out the truth, he would make a killing, his story would finally bring some honor to his family name.

Jonah had lost both of his parents to the storms, leaving him abandoned and in the care of his drunk uncle. The man was no better than scum, and he’d worked from a young child to learn a trade to actually leave behind the cursed town, make his way to the big city, and become a writer. He’d grown such a hatred for the sea, even if he’d been a well trained sailor by his parents hands. It’d taken his world away, and now, he wanted to find out the truth behind the horror of the deep.

Rough rain pelted Jonah’s face, the hood of his coat drawn tight and close, protecting from the worst of the onslaught. His green eyes looked up to the light in the distance, as he undocked the boat, and set sail. His dark brown hair was soaked, clumped and sticking to his forehead, causing rivers of saltwater to travel down his face. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the oars and began his journey.

Through fog, rain, thunder and lightning, he managed to make his way across the ocean, through the sea, towards the light. It called to him, guided him, and drew him through every obstacle. He wanted to reach that shore, reach that light, and find the truth. His fingers were almost bloody, soaking the thick red liquid into the wood, dying it red. He wanted to stop, to give in and let the black of the sea consume him, but still, he pressed on.

Soon enough, he could see those distant stairs, the shore of the small island, and his heart became calm. He was within reach, and he couldn't stop now. While he wasn't particularly strong, he fought against his tired muscles, biting back the fatigue, until finally, he’d reached it. He’d made it to shore. 

The sea was still and calm at the base, something he was very grateful for. Staring up into the night sky, he watched the white light shine off into the darkness, Innsmouth illuminated off in the distance. It felt so far away, and for that, he couldn't be more happy. Gripping his satchel, he slung it back across his shoulder, walking steadily up the stairs, towards the tall iron door, barring his entrance.

The entire structure of the lighthouse was a sleek obsidian black, carved with intricate golden detailing covering the monument. How something so beautiful could survive out in such a harsh environment, Jonah had no idea.

Taking off his hood, he shook his head, the wet hair drying slightly. His chest heaved as he shook his soaked clothing dry. Even with a thick coat, he’d been soaked through to the bone by the storm, but, now he’d be fine, he felt safe at last.

Gripping the two handles of the door, Jonah forced it open, with a loud creak. The obsidian doors parted, as Jonah carefully took his first step into the building. As soon as he’d entered, the lights within the lighthouse illuminated, casting shadows from the pale green lights.

The room itself was large, wide as the lighthouse, furnished with chairs and seats, much fancier than he had ever imagined could be near his town. It was like a room from a beautiful movie, one Jonah had only been able to view once in his life, an experience he had not soon forgotten, even though it had been at least 5 years.

Setting his bag down, Jonah approached the roaring fire across the room, the only light that was not a pale green, as he warmed himself, drying what wetness remained on him. Removing his comb, he cleared the knots and curls from his dark hair, straightening it, as he sighed and relaxed. 

The cushioned furniture was almost otherworldly as well. Fashioned from soft fabrics that soothed his worries, letting him relax further back into the couch. His eyelids became heavier and heavier as he blinked, calm and at peace in this room, despite the madness that had crashed around him in the ocean.

Looking to the side table, he found several books, stacked neatly on the table, as if appearing out of thin air. Removing one of the books, he opened it to view the strange writings within. Odd characters dotted the page, strange sentences formed with no explanation, rhyme or reason. Slipping a finger across the pages, he searched through the book, while not understanding a word of it, it seemed to give him a deep understanding of nothingness.

Placing the book back. Jonah looked down to see a goblet placed onto the table, along with a thoroughly well made cigar. While Jonah had not partaken much with alcohol or tobacco, having never had the funds or desires to try either frequently, his few friends had shared it with him on occasion.

Slipping back into the soft couch, Jonah’s heavy eyes blinked again, as he sipped at the goblet, tasting the rich taste of what seemed to be wine. It twisted in his mouth, as he ran it over his tongue endlessly. It tasted of sweet fruits, grapes that had to have been harvested at the pique of season, all mixed together with soft lavender, a smell that flooded his nose as he sniffed it.

It overpowered him with a comfort his mind had never known. Not the odd drunken stupors he had been known to have from just a few sips, but a relaxation that his mind was crippled by. He slipped the wine quietly, as his gaze went to the fire, blinking slowly, staring into the flickering dull flames.

Gripping the cigar from the box, he’d carefully lit it, taking a puff from it and relaxing back. He and a few others had shared the odd cigar before behind one of the fisheries, coughing up a storm but growing used to it, but he’d never formally made it a habit to try it regularly. Sipping the wine and quietly enjoying the cigar, he felt as though he was seeing his future.

A rich writer, in a penthouse apartment, surrounded by richness that he himself could have never imagined. His clothes, once worse than a paupers, felt clean, warm, and wonderfully neat. Setting the wine down, he laid his head back, taking the cigar to his mouth again, he drew on it, watching the smoke coil up, floating up towards the beacon of light above him. 

The swirls seemed to thicken as he drew again, the room beginning to seem like a fog as he felt his hand slip into his pants, the soft material unbuttoning easily. Gripping himself, he stroked gently, letting his mind wander. He could get off to the mere thought of victory, of getting out of this town and becoming famous. Being the one good thing this town had ever procured. Smirking, he drew again, as he watched the thick tendrils of smoke seem to solidify.

Drifting down, they wrapped themselves around his body, like massive tentacles, warming him in their grasp. His eyes seemed to glow as he was lost in the action, stroking himself faster as the spiraling mist coaxed more out of him. Puffing out another cloud of smoke, he let it go slowly, as he felt his body recoiling, going rigid as his eyes stared straight into the mist. 

In that mist however, a great red pair of eyes stared back at him, as the coils around his body tightened, his release was hard. The massive roar above him was louder than he had ever heard. Descending from the cloud of smoke, the tentacled face of pure madness met his vision.

Blinking hard, Jonah gasped, sitting up. He could feel the force still on him, but only a phantom pain. The lighthouse before him lay dull as it had been before, with no books or vices nearby. 

His hand however, still held a now shrinking member, as he gripped a rag from his satchel, cleaning himself off. He’d dried completely, but his mind was still faded. How could he forget so easily why he’d come here? 

Gripping the satchel, he scanned the rest of the room, finding the circular staircase going up also seemed to leave a hatch going down nearby. It, compared to the fancy appearance of the tower, was old, gnarled wood, inscribed with gold lettering, ‘H' mgep fhtagn’, it read, in a dead language.

Opening the hatch, he peered down into the blank darkness below, the staircase beneath the hatch’s ladder lit enough by more pale lights, barely giving enough light to not trip down the worn stairs. Swallowing his fear, and buttoning his pants, Jonah gripped the ladder, closing the hatch above him, and descended below, into the depths.

The staircase below seemed to be equally as fancy, black obsidian stone and railings leading down in a spiral for what looked like forever. It would be a long way down. Carefully, Jonah lit a small lantern he’d brought, and began his march down.

The sound of the oceans wails now resounded against the walls of this chamber, banging hard as he closed in on the wails of massive sea creatures, fearing they would crash into the structure and send him to a watery grave. It was almost relaxing, at a point, the sound of the sea, but he couldn't fight off his maddening worry. 

What could be so far down? What could be locked within this lighthouse prison? What could give him such fanciful yet fearful visions? Gripping the railing tighter, Jonah bit his lip, staring up at the obsidian walls, observing their markings.

They seemed to tell a tale of the old gods, giants who once roamed the Earth, making it their home before being drawn off and away by an unknown force. They blessed the Earth with fertility and love, but soon became twisted as the story went on. Images of massive cities, with towering gods spitting fire below became apparent, toppled towers by waves, and men enslaved. The corruption of man, Jonah though, was far more prevalent than he’d assumed.

Perhaps, this was the prison of a god, a mad god, hoping to grasp the world of man, and rend it to and fro for destroying the beautiful world it had worked so hard to create and thrive in. The thought terrified Jonah, but he was too far gone to turn tail now.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of travelling down, Jonah came to rest at the bottom of the stairwell, sitting down at the stoop and breathing heavily. His energy all but gone, Jonah removed some food from his satchel, as well as his canteen, gulping down both, fueling him enough to move forward.

Standing steadily, Jonah gulped down the rest of his water, replacing the canteen into his bag. Walking forward towards the slick iron door, the symbols on it glowed brightly. The tendrils of light travelled up past the door, over the walls. They winded their way up to the tales carved into the wall, igniting the passage up. Jonah’s attention returned to the door, which shot open wide, revealing the dimly lit interior.

Steadily passing the threshold, the door behind him snapped shut, as he jumped from the sound. It creaked and crackled, sealing up with an unearthly power he had not known. The fear and adrenaline nearly cut him off from wrenching the door open, only to be drawn away by an overwhelming sensation of eyes, focused directly onto him.

Stepping into the center of the massive room, Jonah took into account the interior. It was lit by glowing crystals, built around each of the four pillars of the room, giving him plenty of light. The large windows around him travelled up high, meeting at a massive view of the ocean floor, all the way to the surface. He could see everything from these windows, every little fish to a massive whale, that soared overhead. The floor was a carved ivory, much different from the obsidian doors behind him. The pillars matched their beauty, but the walls were a deep turquoise blue, a compliment to the style of the room.

Still nervous, Jonah could feel that the attention of something had been met by him. The growl of a creature, hidden somewhere within the room. The deep voice, as raging as the waters above, spoke to him, “A soul with true purpose and possibility finally had approached. Welcome to my domain, young man.” The voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It shook Jonah to his core, as his feet began to shake with a deep primal fear.

Unable to speak, he felt the room shake, as he stumbled around. His satchel carried him to the floor, as Jonah stumbled around, trying to find the source of the call. It was almost ethereal, calling him once more. “Stand up, young man. I want to present you with a gift for your perseverance. Open your arms wide, and accept my gift!” It boomed, as Jonah did what it required.

Lifting his arms shakily as he stood, Jonah closed his eyes, feeling nothing. Five seconds, ten seconds, twenty, thirty. Soon, he became fearful it had been a joke. There was no gift to be given to someone like him. The journey, while eventful, was merely a work of fiction to others. He began to grow doubtful, as his hands began to fall.

Before they could reach the ground however, he felt two powerful tendrils wrap around him from behind. They hoisted him into the air, as Jonah’s eyes opened. The room had been consumed again in crushing darkness, as the voice of the creature boomed again, “Young man, do not doubt my boon. Look into my eyes, and you will be given the ultimate gift. Servitude, under my will.”

Jonah heard the voice, and closed his eyes tight. He would not obey such a creature! He was no slave! The tendrils wrapped even tighter, as Jonah felt more begin to arrive.

His chest was coiled over by small tentacles, slipped across him. Several others assaulted his cuffs, slipping under his arms and under his shirt, against the skin. They were soft, wet and sticky, pressing against him roughly.

Several others soon found his legs, tearing his shoes free from his feet as they coiled around his ankles, pulling him down at the tentacles around his arms pulled him up, straining him. They slipped high up his legs, binding his thighs tightly. They sucked hard against his skin as they pressed down, increasing in strength as more arrived.

“Open your eyes, boy. You will be my servant and bring my word to the people of Innsmouth. You will be my herald.” He spoke directly into Jonah’s mind, vibrating in his skull as the creature's tentacles continued their assault. “Open your eyes and obey!”

A massive tendril wrenched against Jonah’s pants, tearing them free, leaving him only in the thin underwear he had long worn out. It easily slipped within them, pressing into the crevice hidden inside. Jonah felt the pressure as it pressed harder, fighting it with all that he had.

Was it futile to fight a god? Was he going to die if he kept it up? He was afraid now, no sign of clarity anywhere in his mind. Another tentacle slipped into his underwear, coiling around his manhood as he gasped, feeling the organ begin to harden at the shock of wetness and attention. 

It began to press him, slipping itself around his cock in a coil, as he gasped and heaved his breath, beginning to grow weaker with their attack. “Give in, Jonah. You will have knowledge, power, gifts beyond your minds design, if you obey. Open your eyes, and give yourself over to me…” 

The coiling around his cock began to quicken, as a third tentacle gently looped itself from his thigh around his testicles, pressing and massaging them, as Jonah's mouth opened in a loud groan. With a quick thrust from behind, Jonah yelped, opening his eyes from the pain.

In an instant, his vision was occupied by the eyes. Thousands of eyes, red eyes, piercing into him. He felt his mind begin to fall, clouded by the piercing thoughts of destruction, images of horrible despair, crashing violently around in his head. His voice became only a low groan, as the tentacles slid further around his body, consuming him in their grasp. 

His cock seized up, firing off spurt after spurt of his seed, falling down into the shadows below, as his waist was bound tightly. His body shook with deep heavy breaths, as he was forcibly held forward, staring into the eyes of the god. Pulling him closer, it let out a growl.

“That's it, relax Jonah. Give in to me and obey. All will be answered for you now.” The massive tentacles of the Mad God slipped out, wrapping around his face, pulling his chin down. They coiled and wriggled at the edges of his face, massaging the soft skin, as his mind was further corrupted.

This being, this ultimate form before him, towering even taller than the biggest building, wanted him to be it’s herald? Why would he ever deny the great being’s request? He would obey without question, and the great being would reward him greatly, giving him powers that were beyond the ideas the mind could imagine. 

Smiling slowly, the tentacles began to drown him, pulling him down into the darkness of the room below. The inky blackness suffocated him and consumed him. It was so warm, so comforting, as the eyes above him gleamed in the light of the crystals. Further and further he slipped, as soon, his eyes began to close.

He’d never learned the truth. He knew only his new god’s request. Why would he bother with fighting something so intelligent, so kind, and so powerful? He’d brought Jonah there for a purpose, and his purpose had been met. 

The madness within Jonah’s mind raged on, as he lay in the inky blackness, tentacles binding him still, as layer after layer soon joined them, consuming him in a never ending pile of tendrils that seeked to invade and corrupt any part of their captor that they could.

Jonah did not fight them, he only seeked to submit to the master before him. To the god that would provide him with endless life, endless knowledge, and endless power. Looking up through the mass of tentacles, his eyes met a final time with the being before him, which let out a soothing groan. Jonah’s eyes gleamed red, matching the being, as he closed them, a final time in his human life.

——————

Exiting the lighthouse, Jonah listened to the lapping of the water, soothing against the mast of the lighthouse. Fixing his clothes, he pulled his satchel closer to himself, under his arm. Snapping his black cloak closed, he pulled the hood back, letting the soft air hit his face. Sliding into the boat before him, still as it had been three days prior, he took in the fresh air.

He hadn't felt so calm and at ease in ages. His long brown hair blew gently in the breeze, as he smiled at the distant clouds in the distance. Soon, it would be time to return. His hand gently massaged his chin, the stubble that’d grown there prickled into his skin gently. 

Untying the boat from the lighthouse, he gripped the oar, and began his journey back. Tying the loose fabric he’d found to the roof of the boat, he made himself a shelter within. The lamplight gave him time to piece through the book he’d been given as well.

It’s gold embossed cover shown beautifully against the hard black leather beneath, as his long fingers trailed along its surface. It has a book of the lord, the one and only that he was faithful to. Opening it gently, he began to read, his smile only growing wider as he did.

The boat rocked for hours, as he trailed along the surface of the water. He was in no rush, none at all. In time, they would come to understand his god, and in time, they’d come to accept him as well. The madness was nothing to fear, through that fear came understanding, under his kindness and benevolence.

Jonah’s eyes shifted to red for a moment, as he smiled wider. His sharpened fangs had become quite menacing, along with his dull, pale skin, and talon like hands. His legs, arms, his entire body practically, had become stronger, sleeker and svelte, his muscular body much more powerful than any human body.

His dull laugh shook the tent, as the boat rocked. Laying back into the dry wooden divot in the floor, Jonah smiled into the light of the lamp above him. He felt so happy now. Why suffer in wonder and fear, when you could accept the fate you’d been given and become one with the god of this land? 

Dark tentacles slipped from the shadows beneath the boards, coiling themselves into his clothing, slipping against his skin below. Why not enjoy some fun before coming ashore? The book slipped into his satchel as the boat rocked, the tentacles making their way around and into Jonah once more, as he groaned loudly, the boat shaking.

From within the boat, the dull voice resounded again, as inky black splatters shot up from the tents interior, matching Jonah’s groans. “Show them, boy. Show them my wonders, and bring them to my side. We will right the wrongs that they’ve committed. Hail the call of Cthulhu. Your one true God!”


End file.
